


Call Out My Name

by edgar_essa_and_filip



Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Angst and Humor, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rating May Change, Smoking, Strong Language, flirty Tedros, legal drinking age over here is 18 so, minor hestadil, not underage in europe, one-sided hophie, some innuendos, stubborn Hort, temporary tophie, underage in the usa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgar_essa_and_filip/pseuds/edgar_essa_and_filip
Summary: Hort wasn’t looking for love his first year at the School for Evil. That little vocation was reserved for dimwitted princes and princesses at the School for Good, not Nevers at the School for Evil. But somehow it captures him in the form of a tan, blue-eyed prince.Tedros knows his path: crown, princess, kingdom. He just needs to get through the school year and keep all the pieces of himself together in the meantime. Nobody was going to knock him off that path. Especially tall, dark-haired Neverboys.
Relationships: Hort/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Sophie/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. The First Time I Saw You

**Author's Note:**

> I’m thinking one chapter per week, but probably more often depending on how much schoolwork I have.  
> The characters are aged up to 17-19 years old, but this fic does follow first year at the School for Good and Evil canon roughly, but veers off in places because of the main ship Hort/Tedros.

Hort is sitting in his seat sulking and wondering why the hell the Everboys get a separate entrance when the doors slam open and one more walks in. 

Hair a halo of celestial gold, eyes blue as a cloudless sky, skin the color of hot desert sand, he glistens with a noble sheen, as if his blood runs purer than the rest. The stranger takes one look at the frowning, sword-armed boys, pulls out his own sword, and grins.

Forty boys come at him at once, but he disarms each with lightning speed. The swords of his classmates pile up around his feet as he flicks them away without inflicting a scratch. The boy dismisses each new challenge as quickly as it comes. When the last boy is left swordless and dumbstruck, he sheathes his sword and shrugs, as if to say he means nothing by it all. But the boys of Good seem to know what it means. The princes now had a king.

Hort can’t find a reason to boo. And he does try. The silence around him in the Never pews reflects his astonishment. Hort then has to watch Evergirls push and shove to have the honor of catching the golden boy’s rose. The prince throws his rose high in the air and Hort sees the beautiful Nevergirl he’d met in the moat lunge for the falling flower, only to catch a wolf instead. An Evergirl with greasy black hair and sallow skin gapes back at the boy with his rose in her open palm.

Before the boy can react he is pulled into a seat next to a blonde Evergirl. She has at least twenty roses on the seat next to her. Her arm is already slinked possessively around his waist and she’s practically sitting on him with a creamy leg thrown over his lap. Hort is still staring at him when a movement catches the corner of his eye, and suddenly the rose that the bug-eyed Evergirl caught is lying in his lap. 

She must have thrown it away.

He looks at the rose for a long time, beginning to think that it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. The petals are a soft pink, with red bleeding around the edges, like ink on a silk shirt. He lifts the rose to his face and breathes in deep through his nose. The sweet, cloying smell of gentle summer fills his head and Hort feels like he could die now and be content. But he suddenly feels a prickling on his neck and his eyes snap open.

Brown meets blue and Hort feels like withering into his seat. The golden boy stares at the rose pressed to Hort’s nose, then up into his eyes, then back at the rose. 

Instead of finding shock or even unbridled disgust like he expected, Hort sees the prince’s cheeks flush a dark pink and sky-blue eyes quickly look away.

Hort is frozen for a second but quickly comes to his senses and shoves the rose deep into one of his pockets, wanting it out of his sight. 

He can’t look at it. He can’t look at it because he’s angry. Angry that the stupid, arrogant prince had thought that short moment was anything more. The blush on those high cheekbones was a reflection of his shame and he hated it. 

For the rest of the introduction lecture Hort can’t concentrate on anything the teachers are saying and he doesn’t even try. His eyes stay fixed on the floor and he refuses to lift his gaze, worried that he might catch those blue eyes again. 

He hears that the boy’s name is Tedros when a coven of witches start whispering about it. They seem annoyed by Tedros’ mere existence and Hort has never sympathized with anything more. The prince already aggravated him to no end, and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Hort can’t resist taking one more quick look at the prince when he’s sure that the blond will be occupied. He studies Tedros’ high cheekbones, silky blond hair, and soft, pink mouth. His muscular shoulders and strong arms fill out his blue shirt, tie loosened and collar undone. He looks so serene and assured, as if he knows destiny is on his side.

It makes Hort sick. 

All he can see is an arrogant prince who always gets everything he wants. The pretty blonde girl he had first seen in Evil’s moat was also watching Tedros and his hate towards the prince grows exponentially.

 _Of course_ the only girl he liked among the Nevers would be obsessed with him too. The flame in his heart turns into a blaze as Hort scowls at Tedros. He wants to grab the pretty boy by his blonde curls and rip him to shreds.

Sadly that’s impossible in his current state, because his manwolf form had decided to be difficult and had been laying dormant for the past year. And the worst part is Hort doesn’t even know why. Usually a manwolf will have trouble transforming if they don’t want it enough. But Hort wants it. _So bad._

He’d even visited an elder manwolf to try and figure out what the hell was wrong with him but the man turned out to be a crackpot because all he kept saying was Hort finding “something he was passionate about” and “discovering a strong motivator”.

Hort rolls his eyes again just thinking about it. 

Suddenly the Nevers start rising around him and Hort realizes that Pollux and Castor have finally stopped yammering and they’re free to go. He trudges after the rest of the Nevers, not letting himself look back at the Evers or that stupid prince. 

Hort had decided that Tedros was obviously an idiot because there’s no way someone is that ridiculously good-looking _and_ intelligent. Plus blondes were always dumb, everybody knew that.

The evil students are more or less silent as they exit the theater, low murmurs every now and then the extent of their speech, while the Evers on the other hand chat happily to each other like birds in spring. 

A deeper voice adds remarks here and there to the tremendously fast and high-pitched monologues of assorted princesses. Hort turns around just once because no matter how much he tries to fight himself, curiosity gets the better of him. 

Hort sees his suspicions confirmed. 

Tedros walks in the midst of a flock of beautiful princesses, each vying for his attention, either with a hand on his arm or a pretty bat of eyelashes. 

Hort wants to suffocate them with their own ribbons. 

———

Tedros sees the dark-haired Neverboy from earlier turn back forwards and feels a pang of disappointment. He dismisses it as a result of his _slightly_ narcissistic tendencies and focuses his attention back to the Evergirls surrounding him. 

They talk back and forth about various topics like which class they’re most excited for and what kind of beauty treatments they want to try out in the Groom Room. Beatrix asks him about his workouts and even though Tedros knows what he’s saying must be utterly boring for them, all the girls swoon and sigh when he describes his method for getting the most out of a swim or weight lifting circuit.

He can’t seem to really concentrate on what they’re saying because all he can think about is the other boy. And how he had pressed Tedros’ rose to his face and inhaled like it was the last breath he would ever take. 

Noone had ever treated anything of Tedros’ with that sort of reverence, especially when they thought nobody was looking. 

Girls were always around him, hanging on his arm or perched on his lap. But he knew they were just there for his looks. Don’t get him wrong, Tedros wasn’t really complaining. Of course they always had a good time in the end, but he always thought that when love happened for real it would feel different.

When Tedros had locked eyes with the dark-haired boy, he’d felt his face flush in response. He tells himself it was involuntary second-hand embarrassment but that doesn’t explain why he can’t get the moment out of his head. 

Beatrix distracts him with a dainty arm looped around his bicep as she leans into his side, blinking big topaz eyes and smiling coquettishly. He can’t help but smile back, feeling captured by her boldness. 

Beatrix also reminds him of a Never from earlier that hadn’t looked like a Never at all, one who he had felt an instant, unquestionable attraction to. She had had striking green eyes and shiny blonde hair, her peachy skin and dazzling features making her stand out among the other Nevers like a rose among thorns. 

And the way she looked at him had been… _predatory_. 

And _that_ felt different.

Tedros had always been the “hunter” when it came to dating. He was the pursuer, the one to seek out the pretty girl, flirt and charm his way into her heart, then finally enjoy the elation of having her in his arms. 

But being pursued like that was something else. Feeling like the prey had sparked something unidentifiable in his stomach. 

He has no more time to think about it as they are all pushed towards Good castle by the rest of the crowd. 

The turrets of Good come into view, blue and pink glass shining in the afternoon sunlight. Even though Tedros had seen pictures of the castle in paintings, they didn’t do the school justice. 

It was mesmerizing. 

Tedros knew his time at school was going to impact the rest of his life. He also knew his responsibilities: Graduate top of the class with a beautiful princess on his arm. Not repeat the mistakes of his father. Keep all villains at arms-length. He’d been corrupted once, it couldn’t happen again. Tedros knew that was the way it should be and he knew that was what had to happen. 

It couldn’t go any other way.

But Tedros feels an insistent heat in his chest and he thinks again. 

The Neverboy from before; what the hell had that been? The tightness in his chest and the red on his cheeks was similar to the feelings he got when he saw beautiful princesses. _Beautiful_ princesses with flouncing dresses in an assortment of pastel colors. Brilliant smiles and glowing skin. Long hair and sparkling eyes. 

So why?

 _Ha._ The guy hadn’t looked even slightly like a princess, or a prince for that matter. 

Far from it. 

Inky black hair hung over dark eyes that seemed to burn with hate as they’d stared at each other. His grimy uniform was obviously too big for him and his skin seemed like it hadn’t seen the sun in years. 

The classic Never, one that Tedros had to avoid. He couldn’t have a repeat of last time, it would be the death of him.


	2. I Hate You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting of the forest group. Tensions rise and strong feelings, be they negative or positive, grow even more pronounced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I wrote Hort to be a little less weasel-like and more sullen and brooding. His “glow-up” so to speak, happens earlier but slower to make it more realistic.  
> \- And Tedros is just more soft. He’s still super emotional though. (As per usual.)  
> 

After a day of tiring classes Hort just wants it to be over. He would finally be able to go back to his room and escape the suffocating presence of jerk-faced Nevers and pompous Evers.

He trudges towards the outskirts of the blue forest with the rest of the Nevers in his forest group, not surprised to see that they’re the first ones. Evers had a weird obsession with either being “fashionably late” or making a “glamorous entrance” whenever they were invited anywhere. Hort chalked it up to too many parties and stuffy ceremonies. 

As if summoned, a small group of Evergirls in pretty pink dresses flutter their way towards the blue forest, all the while keeping a healthy distance between them and the Nevers. There’s a smattering of Everboys in their midst, blue suits shining in the afternoon sunlight. Hort sees the pale girl from the Theater on the edges, looking far too uncomfortable in her uniform, black hair falling across her face like a curtain. 

Hort then peers back at the blonde Nevergirl, “Sophie” as Hort had found out during their previous classes. She hurries towards the dark-haired princess and Hort watches them engage in a whispered argument, their rapid-fire conversation too quiet for him to make out. Sophie repeats “Agatha” over and over again, so Hort assumes it must be the pale girl’s name. 

A high-pitched giggle distracts him and Hort turns his head to see Tedros and the popular girl from the Theater approach. Hort hears Agatha hiss out “Beatrix” under her breath, with the utmost contempt in her voice.

The blond prince seems to have completely lost whatever humble demeanour Hort had seen yesterday and is walking leisurely towards the rest of the forest group with Beatrix under his arm. They looked like the perfect couple. If that couple was perfectly _annoying._

Soon a dwarf arrives, states his name in a gruff voice and proceeds to explain the conceptual difference between Evers and Nevers. As if they didn’t know that already. 

“Yuba” then decides to implement the dumbest exercise for them to practice the rules with. 

Telling Ever and Nevers apart. It’s like the dwarf was mocking them.

Hort quickly finds out that it’s harder than it looks. Yuba chooses three students, blindfolds one, turns two into identical creatures and expects the first one to be able to tell the difference after he’s taken the blindfold off. The Nevers disguised are supposed to try and pass as Evers. 

At first it seems easy, but Hort watches student after student fail to tell the two apart.

Yuba stabs a finger at Sophie and beckons her forward. She sweeps to the front in her black robes, black robes that look good on her despite their tattered appearance. Sophie is the picture of beauty and Hort already feels entranced. 

“Tedros, Hort! Get over here.”

Hort is wrenched from his musings when he sees Tedros step forward, Hort reluctantly follows, not particularly fond of the prince or being anywhere near him.

They come up face to face and Hort is delighted to see that Tedros is actually a couple inches shorter than him. As he looks down into crystal blue eyes, instead of it making Tedros look less formidable, the realization of their height difference ignites something in Hort’s chest. 

The Never can tell that Tedros is slightly miffed about his stature but suddenly something changes in his expression, _embarrassment maybe?_ And Tedros abruptly backs away, letting golden curls fall across his face as he looks at the ground in a strange moment of submissiveness.

The heat burning under Hort’s skin only seems to grow at the gesture and he’s taking steps forward before he even realizes it. 

But suddenly there’s a flash of light and after a blink of confusion Hort soon realizes that they’ve been transformed into identical wolves. He feels right at home in the animal’s body because of its similarities to his manwolf form. The silky black fur is thick and long and he paws at the dirt in anticipation. Hort knows he’s not going to get to fight Tedros in this form but it always helps to intimidate the opponent, especially when said opponent is a prissy Everboy. 

He eyes Tedros and sneers, _what a joke_. He’s met with a piercing gaze already glowing with determination. 

Whatever, this was going to be a piece of cake. All he has to do is trick Sophie into thinking he’s an Ever by copying whatever Tedros does. Riling him up while he does that is a bonus. 

Sophie still has the blindfold on and Tedros sits down on his haunches, the epitome of elegance with a puffed out chest and swishing black tail. Hort stalks forward to sit down next to him and copies Tedros’ posture as well as he can, if he exaggerates it’s because the possibility of mocking the prince is irresistible. 

Yuba takes Sophie’s blindfold off and Tedros looks at him out of the corner of his eye, pointed wolf ears pulling back in a subconscious sign of anger. Tedros gets back up, fur standing on end.

Knowing that only the prince can understand his words, Hort pulls himself up too and smirks, “You’re used to being on all fours, huh?”

Tedros is shocked frozen for a second before baring his teeth and growling at him. Hort must have underestimated Tedros’ susceptibility to anger because before he knows it Tedros is leaping at him, snarling and trying to get Hort’s neck between his teeth.

Hort snaps at him wildly and after a short tussle shoves Tedros off, all previous civility thrown out the window as he lunges for Tedros, seething and growling. 

They scuffle and snarl at each other, rolling around on the ground, getting muddier and muddier the longer they struggle. Hort is surprised Yuba doesn’t intervene because the longer they fight the more savage it gets. 

Tedros is biting and clawing at anything in his reach and Hort is giving in kind while barely holding Tedros at bay. The prince is acting like a wild animal and Hort would have been impressed by his viciousness if it had been more calculated. But Tedros is just lashing out, no real plan in his movements and Hort soon has the upper hand. He’s on top of the prince, jaw closing in and assuring his victory. 

——— 

Sharp teeth dig into the soft fur of his neck and Tedros fights the panic rising in his chest, barely holding back a whine. He struggles under Hort’s merciless hold but before he can try bucking him off, they’re no longer wolves and Tedros is back in his own skin, panting under Hort, trying to catch his breath. 

The Neverboy still has his face pressed into the all too vulnerable junction between Tedros’ shoulder and neck, hot puffs of air making Tedros’ hair stand up on end. 

Teeth scrape against his skin and Tedros soon realizes how close they actually are. He knows he should definitely move soon but all he really wants to do is lay there and catch his breath. 

Hort seems to follow the same thought process because he pauses for a moment, dropping his head with a harsh exhale, black hair tickling Tedros’ cheek for a second before pushing himself up and off, chest heaving under his black uniform, streaks of mud along his arms and legs.

Tedros knows he looks just as bad, if not worse. He wipes at a smear of dirt on his jaw, cursing Yuba for making them do this stupid exercise. 

The dwarf fixes them both with a disapproving stare, “That _vulgar_ display was one of the most incompetent exhibitions of the rules that I’ve ever had the displeasure of witnessing.”

Tedros huffs and kicks at the grass with the tip of his boot, face flushing dark pink despite himself. Hort looks down and folds his arms across his chest, puffing at the bangs that have fallen in his face. 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, acting like a couple of wild animals!” Yuba angrily continues, “Rendering the exercise useless with your idiocy!”

Tedros’ face is now burning with embarrassment. This was the worst possible start to his first year at the School for Good. 

The prince sees that Hort’s ears have turned bright red and the Neverboy doesn’t lift his gaze from the ground, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace. 

Yuba goes quiet for a moment before barking out, “You two are on dish duty after lunch for the next three weeks!” Hort’s head snaps up in horror at the dwarf’s words. “Hopefully you and Tedros will learn your lesson.” Tedros is speechless, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “Hort, you’ll be in charge of the Never’s pails and Tedros, you’ll clean the Ever’s baskets.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hort finally exclaims. “The Never pails are disgusting! And the Ever baskets barely get dirty!” He points a finger accusingly at Tedros, “Prince Prettyface won’t have to work at all!”

Tedros opens his mouth to retort but Yuba cuts him off, “Make your peace with it. The class is over.” 

Hort’s face flushes with rage and if looks could kill...Tedros would be six feet underground.

Students start leaving and Sophie and Beatrix both rush towards him at the same time, with what Tedros knows is just mock concern. 

“Oh my god, Teddy are you okay?” Beatrix pulls a small handkerchief from her bag and wipes at Tedros’ hands, blinking up at him, all the while biting her lip. Tedros fights the urge to roll his eyes.

Sophie stands next to Beatrix, glaring at the princess like she was something to be wiped off the bottom of a shoe. As if she can sense Tedros observing her, Sophie turns back to him, emerald eyes glinting playfully. 

Beatrix shoots a venomous look back at Sophie, “We don’t need your help.”

Sophie hums, “I’m not here to help.” 

Tedros raises his eyebrows at her boldness and the inherent suggestion in her tone. Beatrix looks scandalized as she watches Sophie touch her fingertips to Tedros’ cheekbone.

“Tedros _darling_ , take a walk with me.” 

Sophie’s looking up at him through her lashes and Tedros is struck again by how forward she is, going after what she wants like a lioness on the hunt. He accidentally meets Hort’s gaze over Sophie’s shoulder, and he’s never seen someone scowl at him with so much hatred. And next to him stands Agatha, with the same unbridled loathing in her expression. 

Tedros hesitates before coming to a decision. He feels a little better when he finally lets Sophie loop an arm around his and lead him away from the others. He knows that leaving is bringing him quite a few enemies, but after that train-wreck of a class, he just wants to get away. 

Sophie snuggles closer into his side and he manages to smile down at her, still embarrassed by his failure in the exercise.

She seems to sense his negativity and shakes her head, “That old dwarf was too harsh on you, a scuffle between boys is completely normal.” Her blonde hair swishes around her shoulders, soft lavender smell hitting Tedros’ nose like a pleasant breeze, “Especially when it’s about a girl.” She giggles into her other hand.

Tedros looks at her in surprise and then furrows his brows, thinking back on why he had jumped at Hort in the first place. 

His self-control felt like it had slipped away and before he’d known what he was doing, he had been on top of the Neverboy, lost in his anger. 

_But had it been because of Sophie?_

Uncertainty grips Tedros and he’s no longer sure why he’d reacted that way at all. Was it Sophie? Was it Hort? The two Nevers had both stuck out during the assembly in the Theater of Tales. And Tedros wasn’t very good at judging his feelings or acting appropriately. 

He knew that, it was another one of his many failures. 

Insecurity festers in his heart like an open wound. Flirting, sports, sword fighting, battle strategy? He had that in the bag. But anything that really mattered? He was hopeless.

And he can’t help his lingering animosity towards Nevers. They couldn’t be trusted. If you gave them any sort of power over you, they would abuse it and tear you apart with their cruel indifference. 

Which is why he’s wary of the blonde currently pressed into his side. 

He tries to let it go, but even as they walk towards their separate gates, he fears that there’s something wrong with whatever is blooming between them. Like a poisonous flower, beautiful yet deadly. 

Tedros can’t deny that she’s beautiful, with her bewitching green eyes and pretty, rose petal lips. But suddenly Hort pops up in his head and he almost stops in his tracks. Completely shocked at himself. 

Hort definitely wasn’t someone he thought of in that light. 

_Right?_


	3. Got You On My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self reflection is a dangerous thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t smoke kids! The Nevers in this fic might be doing it, but it’s an unhealthy habit!  
> *this has been a public service announcement from the World Health Organization*
> 
> Character heights in feet & inches ->  
> \- Hort: 6’2  
> \- Tedros: 5’10  
> \- Chaddick: 6’3  
> \- Ravan: 5’11  
> \- Agatha: 5’8  
> \- Sophie: 5’5  
> \- Hester: 5’9  
> \- Anadil: 6’0  
> \- Dot: 5’4

The rest of the day passes in a blur, not much to do after Forest Group except study. Hort finally makes it back to the room he shares with Ravan and flops down onto his bed like a moody teenager. 

Hort technically can’t be called a teenager anymore since he’d turned 18 last summer, but it still doesn’t stop him from feeling either angry or horny about most everything going on in his life.

He should have known Forest Group was going to be a disaster. Anytime Evers and Nevers were told to socialize, it always got messy. His father said that Evers were pompous bastards who had permanent poles stuck up their asses. And as today proved, his father was absolutely right.

However, from what he’d seen Tedros was a _little_ different. Pompous, sure. And disgustingly kind to everybody around him. But the way he’d jumped headfirst into a fight with Hort hadn’t been Ever-like at all. He had let his emotions drive him, exercising _none_ of the self-control that Evers were known for.

Hort had almost been impressed with Tedros’ savagery. But he had decisively won anyway, his experience prevailing over the prince’s feral viciousness. It had been the most thrill Hort had felt in a while. 

He sits up on his bed, putting his head in his hands with his elbows resting on his knees, suddenly on edge.

_Why was he thinking about this so much?_

He lets out a sigh, something about the blond just grated him the wrong way. 

_Yes that was it!_

The prince was supremely annoying, galavanting about with his perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect _everything_. Acting like he was God’s gift to mankind. It didn’t help that every girl seemed to think so too. 

_Except Agatha._

Maybe he should go talk to her, rant about Tedros to the one person who seems to think the same. He would have talked to Hester or Anadil but Hester hated boys with a passion and Anadil didn’t seem to care much about anything except her rats.

Heat rises in his face as he thinks about the prince. Hort remembers how Tedros had walked off with Sophie without a glance back and combs a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Hot girl?”

Ravan’s voice shakes him out of his reverie and he nearly falls off the bed, “What the fuck man?” 

The other boy snickers, “Everybody knows you’re a pitiful excuse for a Never, always chasing after girls who don’t want you. So I thought I’d ask.”

Hort glowers at Ravan, “Of course not, just an irritating Ever who’s been getting on my nerves.”

“Hmmm,” Ravan purses his lips in contemplation, “looked more like your pining face. But whatever, I don’t really care.” He flops down onto his own bed and starts digging through his bedside drawer, quickly finding what he wants with a grin.

Hort scowls at both what Ravan said and what he has pulled from his nightstand, laying back on his bed, arms folded under his head. An earthy smell begins to permeate the room and Hort looks over at Ravan, who’s holding a blunt between two fingers, leisurely blowing rings into the air above him.

“Really?” Hort rolls his eyes, “Where the fuck did you get that?”

Ravan sniggers, “Hell.” 

Hort stares at him, unimpressed.

“Nah, I got it from the witches in room 666” 

Hort raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Hester and Anadil?”

Ravan takes a big inhale and speaks around the smoke he blows out, “They wouldn’t even talk to me, I convinced Dot.” He keeps taking hits even as he talks, “They might set up a party later this week ‘cause they have more weed than a medium-sized drug cartel.” He sniggers again, “Where they stash it I’ll never know.”

As Ravan becomes loose and more relaxed from the weed, Hort grows more and more convinced of the fact that the witches of room 666 are only hosting a party to discover the weaknesses of the Nevers around them, the drug eliminating inhibitions and breaking down the thick walls that Evil students set up around themselves.

It was smart, exactly what he expected from someone like Hester. 

Hort wonders how many Nevers were actually lightweights and then ponders if he should go or not. He hadn’t been invited, but then again no one had. That’s just how it worked. Someone would offhand mention a party and the news would spread, people showing up if they had nothing better to do.

Very different from how Evers organized their parties.

Fancy invitations slipped under doors, formal requests of presence, a strict itinerary and occasionally requests for costume or specifically themed clothing.

_How stuffy._

The one pro to their gatherings from what Hort had heard, was that when Evers let loose, they _really_ let loose. Dancing through the night like a bunch of drunk fairies, never tiring and keeping the mood going till morning, kissing whoever they wanted. 

Hort couldn’t lie, it did sound fun.

Especially the kissing.

Hort should have been ashamed of his libido, but he much prefered to call it a _partiality_ to love. Kissing someone sounded so nice, and the fact that he hadn’t yet gotten the chance to, annoys him to no end.

_Tedros_ has probably kissed lots of girls.

Hort stares up at the moldy ceiling above him, wondering exactly how many girls the prince has actually kissed.

———

Tedros lies on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow in his arms. 

He lets out a muffled scream that has Chaddick looking up from his homework in alarm.

“You good bro?”

Tedros lets out a dramatic groan into his pillow and shakes his head. He might have been overdoing it but Tedros couldn’t help but feel like a perfect failure after the day he’s had.

His roommate quickly catches on, “I heard what happened in your Forest Group.” 

Tedros wants to suffocate himself with his pillow.

“It’s not the end of the world. I mean, it was just one little ranking.” Tedros hears Chaddick get up from his desk and feels the dip of the bed as the other boy sits down next to him. 

Tedros is still wallowing in self-pity when Chaddick pets his head, gently stroking the golden curls.

Tedros promptly sits up at that, pushing Chaddick’s hand off. “I’m not a fucking cat.”

Chaddick just grins at him and Tedros rolls his eyes but soon can’t help the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Mission accomplished. One over-emotional prince back to normal.” 

Tedros gives him the middle finger and Chaddick gasps in mock horror, bringing his hand to his chest like a scandalized Victorian lady. 

“You’re such an asshole.” Tedros mutters.

“But you love me.”

Tedros sticks out his chin, turning away like a three year old, “I do not.”

The burly Ever hums to himself, “Fine. I guess I won’t tell you about the new climbing wall I found.” He studies his nails with pursed lips, all the while watching Tedros from the corner of his eye.

The blond prince folds his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes, “Ok... So maybe I do like you, _a little_.” He pulls at Chaddick’s sleeve like a child, “Now tell me about the wall.”

———

Chaddick laughs at how ridiculously easy it is to manipulate the other boy before quickly explaining that if someone crossed the menagerie of statues there was a section of wall with quite a few bricks missing, enough bricks to practice climbing on.

Tedros nods along and launches into his own story of a section of grass, bushes and rocks behind Valor tower that could serve as an obstacle course. Chaddick observes him with a fond expression, the other prince going into detail about the heights and distances between various obstacles, waving his arms around to illustrate his points.

Chaddick knew a lot of people thought Tedros didn’t have to work for his position or status, that everything had been given to him on a silver platter. And that was true, partially, being the heir to the Camelot throne did have its perks. 

But many hadn’t been there as Chaddick watched Tedros sweat and bleed through a grueling long distance run through the woods near Camelot, the heat getting so bad that Chaddick had to stop and ride on his horse instead, passing Tedros a new water flask whenever he needed it.

He’d seen Tedros seemingly turn his pain off during that particularly brutal run. Because afterwards when he’d pulled off his shoes, Chaddick saw that his white socks had been soaked through with red. 

Chaddick liked strength and precision exercises more, like weightlifting and archery. Tedros lifted weights as well, but showed favoritism towards endurance sports, pushing himself to his limits and then _past_ them. 

“Do you think my mistake during the first Forest Group will affect the rest of my scores?” Tedros shows real concern and looks at Chaddick, now more like a kicked puppy than a kitten. 

“Of course not,” Chaddick soothes, “Just don’t get into anymore fights.”

Tedros huffs, “That might be hard. Hort is a real dick.”

“Who?”

The other prince tilts his head to the side in disbelief, “Really tall guy, pale, dark hair?”

“Everybody’s really tall to you.” Chaddick teases, ruffling Tedros’ hair and pulling him sideways into a hug. 

Tedros pouts at his comment, “Whatever. He keeps bothering me.”

“From what I heard, you jumped at him first.”

“He was copying me!” Tedros snaps.

Chaddick raises his eyebrows, “Wasn’t that the whole point of the exercise?”

Chaddick then observes Tedros go through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds.

“I did not start it!” _Denial._

“But he was being a complete and utter ass!” _Anger._

“Ok, but the bastard would have done something worse later if I hadn’t.” _Bargaining._

“I’m the worst Ever in school!” _Depression._

“God, it was totally my fault.” _Acceptance._

Tedros rests his forehead on Chaddick’s shoulder in distress, “I hate myself.”

Chaddick sighs, “Don’t be dramatic. Ignore him from now on.”

Tedros stays there with his forehead resting against Chaddick’s shoulder, his breathing slowing and becoming steadier. Chaddick waits for the prince’s response but after a while realizes that Tedros has fallen asleep... _sitting up._

“Dumbass,” he murmurs, “being a drama queen must really take it out of you, huh?”

He carefully moves out of the way and lays Tedros down on the bed, half covering him with a blanket, knowing that he’ll probably shrug it off during the night.


	4. Why Would You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Classes, lunch, and dish duty with your enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually named this fic after the “Call Out My Name” cover by Seraphim if you want to check it out and catch the vibes. :P
> 
> Not a lot of angst so far but it’s definitely coming.

It’s lunchtime and Hort begrudgingly accepts the pail of roughly cut mystery ribs and already cold bacon. He grimaces at the contents. He hadn’t been able to eat meat since his father made him kill his pet pig when he was ten. The experience had completely put him off almost all animal products.

He’d woken up that morning already exhausted and not ready for lessons of any kind. Curses and Death Traps with Lesso had been morbidly cold as usual, and Uglification with Professor Manley had been the same disgusting mess of smelly pastes and slimey potions, all with the purpose of making them uglier than they already are.

Hort had watched Sophie fight the process once again, shielding her peachy skin from the reeking face mask that Manley had attempted to smother her with, in a futile effort to raise any sort of blemish on her face.

Raucous laughter interrupts his thoughts and he glances over at the Everboy’s a few tables over. Tedros has a grin on his face as he traps Chaddick in a playful headlock, the other burly Everboy laughing under his arm. 

The teachers had mercifully allowed them picnic tables to eat at since the weather had been oppresively rainy the past couple days, turning the ground to muck and slick weeds.

But that didn’t stop the Evers from being their usual happy, ditzy selves.

All of the Everboys were already on their third portion of perfectly cooked steak and Hort isn’t the least bit surprised. The protein was probably necessary with all the exercise they did. 

Tedros’ hair is still damp from the shower he surely took after chivalry, some of the shorter golden strands still wet and clinging to his neck. His white shirt is unlaced, revealing smooth, golden skin over tight muscles. The prince releases his friend with a laugh and resumes eating, Chaddick lightly punching Tedros in the shoulder before doing the same. 

Hort looks down at himself, his body all sharp angles and hard lines under pale skin. 

Of course Sophie wasn’t interested. Why would she want him when she could have a blond, blue-eyed Adonis lookalike. An Adonis who also possessed a disgusting amount of charm, Evergirls practically _throwing_ themselves at him

Maybe if Hort put on some muscle. 

He looks back into his bucket of vomit-inducing meat and cringes inwardly. But with steely resolve he picks up the bacon and swallows it in one go. He’s proud of himself when he doesn’t immediately throw it back up. Chewing as fast as he can, he practically inhales the rest of his pail in a rush to get it down.

Hort sits back, feeling a little green but managing to control his stomach with sheer willpower. 

Now all he had to do was work out.

It didn’t seem that hard. Especially when Tedros did it. The prince always moved with practiced ease, switching through positions like it was second-nature, whether that was during a rugby game or another rope climbing tournament.

If that dingle weed could do it, so could Hort.

He resolves to practice after the school day is over, already deliberating over a spot when the lunch bell chimes and Nevers start getting up around him, throwing their buckets into the huge bin next to the outdoor sink for washing.

A mix of anger and dread creeps up his throat. He’d forgotten.

Dish duty for the next three weeks with _him._ Dear God, he couldn’t possibly survive being next to such an overwhelming amount of empty headedness for that long.

He’s already standing over one of the washing basins when he hears the sound of multiple pairs of boots approaching, he glances up and sure enough, there’s Tedros with his gang of buddies, standing around him with their heads bowed like the members of some sort of somber farewell party.

Chaddick whispers something into the other prince’s ear and pats him on the shoulder before eyeing Hort curiously and walking off with the others, all of whom had either patted Tedros on the shoulder or given him a ridiculous bro-hug as a goodbye.

Hort had to admit, he got a little jealous sometimes of the comradery all Evers seemed to possess, flocking together like exotic birds, goodwill obvious in the friendly smiles they shot each other. Casual touches and tight hugs were something Hort wouldn’t mind, if only he had someone to share them with.

Tedros trudges over, resignation clear on his face, “Let's get this over with, “ he grumbles, grabbing a basket and emptying the silverware onto the counter next to him.

The rest of the students leave for their respective halls, opting to spend their breaktime inside rather than suffer the chill of the current weather.

Why the teachers decided to build an outdoor wash counter Hort will never know. Their classmates are all gone after a few minutes and it’s only Tedros and Hort outside, faced with the task of cleaning the dishes while everybody else relaxes inside. 

———

Hort glares down at the stubborn stain on one of the Never pails. The crust from whatever sludge they were given today doesn’t want to come off and Hort is about at his wits end because Tedros is on his _fourth_ basket and _sixth_ set of cutlery. 

It seems like Evers don’t even _use_ the forks and knives they’re given because the utensils barely look dirty, absolutely minimal traces of food on them.

Tedros catches his dirty glare and smirks, scrubbing the washcloth over a plate once, twice, three times, and then setting it aside to dry on the rack next to him. He moves onto the next plate and his smirk stays glued to his face, blue eyes glinting as he looks up at Hort through his lashes.

Hort’s blood boils and he tightens his grip on the wet sponge in his hand, Tedros’ face looking like the _perfect_ target. 

The second the blond looks back down to pick up a new basket, Hort hurls the soaking-wet sponge and watches it hit Tedros right in the middle of his face. He lets out a loud laugh as the sponge slides down a shocked Tedros’ nose and mouth. 

Funnily enough, Hort sees the exact same phenomenon play out like that first day in their forest group. Tedros stands there, completely appalled at Hort’s behaviour, before losing his cool in a matter of seconds, grabbing the water bucket on his side of the outdoor sink and flinging it’s contents at Hort.

The Neverboy only manages to dodge half the splash and his right side gets completely soaked as a result, black uniform now starting to cling to him like a second skin. 

Hort is proud of himself for reacting quickly when he swiftly retaliates and successfully douses Tedros with a full bucket of soapy water while the prince is still in the throes of his previous victory. 

Completely drenched now, Tedros looks like an angry cat, hissing both at the water and Hort, completely wet and furious about it.

No scratch that. 

The other boy looks like an angry _kitten_ , golden curls plastered to his head except for the couple that decide to stick up anyway, creating the appearance of little cat ears. 

Hort would have found it adorable, had he not hated the guy.

Tedros is practically vibrating with barely contained rage before he lunges at Hort the exact same way he did when they had been transformed into wolves. Except this time Hort fears he may not win. 

Everybody knew that the Everboys did an abundance of sports, including wrestling. And Tedros was (of course) the best at it, claiming victory over the other boys on a regular basis. The only person who regularly beat him was Chaddick, who Hort would say was the burliest Everboy, thick arms and legs corded through with muscle. 

Hort’s only advantage is Tedros’ anger, which will hopefully make him act irrationally, thus aiding in Hort’s triumph.

That hope goes out the window once Hort realizes that Tedros is just as good at wrestling when he’s pissed. He lands on his back in the mud with a grunt, Tedros already sitting on top of him, tan chest heaving through undone shirt laces. 

Hort slips the hold purely out of luck and rolls them so he’s on top, trying to pin Tedros’ hands above his head. But his wet skin makes the prince slippery and Tedros easily escapes Hort’s grip, rolling them so he’s back on top again, sitting himself on the Neverboy’s hips.

 _The pressure there would have been nice,_ Hort offhandedly thinks to himself, _had it not been attached to such an insufferable human being._

But instead of gloating the prince freezes, slowly looking up at something or _someone_ behind Hort. 

The Neverboy tilts his head back as much as he can on the ground and is met with the upside down view of a pair of curly toed shoes attached to a rather angry dwarf. 

Yuba looks sorely disappointed even upside down as he simply mutters, “You two again.”

Tedros scrambles to his feet, “Professor Yuba, it isn’t—“

Yuba raises a hand and Tedros snaps his mouth shut.

The dwarf already looks tired of them and sighs, “And filthy as well.”

Hort looks down at himself and indeed, once again he’s streaked almost all over with mud. He glances at Tedros and the prince only looks marginally better, less dirt and grime, instead just completely soaked through.

Yuba stares at them, taking in their disheveled appearances and pinching the bridge of his nose as he lets out another long sigh.

“You’re switching tasks. Hort is now responsible for the Ever’s baskets and Tedros, you’ll be in charge of cleaning the Never’s buckets.”

Tedros mouth drops open, “But he started it!”

The old dwarf assesses the two of them before replying, “You look cleaner, I have to assume you gave more than you got.”

Tedros eyes widen and he opens his mouth to retort but Yuba shuts him up again with a stern look and Tedros is resigned to balling his fists at his sides, nodding with a clenched jaw. 

Hort tries to fight the grin creeping up on his face, but in the end he can’t help the left side of his mouth twitching up in amusement at the delightful turn of events, for once leaning in Hort’s favor.

Tedros catches the look and scowls. 

But for some reason he looks less angry with Hort and more disappointed in himself, arms folded across his chest, now shivering in the cold, his wet clothes offering no protection against the cutting gusts of wind blowing through the clearing.

His white shirt is plastered to his body, almost translucent against his skin, the lines of his muscles clearly visible through the thin fabric.

Hort realizes he’s staring when Tedros shoots him a suspicious look. He’s weirdly embarrassed, but brushes it off when a cold wind hits him, goosebumps rising on his arms.

Yuba huffs and shoos them in the direction of the two tunnels of trees leading to their separate schools, “Get inside, I’ll finish the rest.”

The dwarf flicks his wrist and the buckets and baskets are sparkling clean in a matter of seconds, gleaming like they had never been dirty.

Tedros stares in affronted surprise.

 _Damn, I need to learn that spell,_ Hort thinks to himself. A cold wind suddenly blows through again, making him shiver, goosebumps rising on his arms, he rubs vigorously, trying to bring some warmth back, knowing that it shouldn’t take long with his metabolism. He startles when a bundle of cloth hits him in the chest. He automatically grabs at it and realizes immediately that it’s an Everboy coat.

He looks up at Tedros standing across from him, the other boy purposefully looking in the other direction, clearly flustered and not able to meet Hort’s eyes.

“Sorry for getting you wet,” he mumbles, “You can wear my jacket if you’re cold,” he rubs the back of his head, making his hair stand in every direction, “It’s still dry from when I put it away.”

Hort is stunned for a moment before flinging the offending garment back at the too well-meaning Ever, “I don’t need your fucking charity.”

“It’s not—“

Hort pulls out his Never jacket from where he had stuffed it under the counter, throwing it at Tedros as well, “ _You_ can wear _my_ coat. Idiot.”

The prince protests, “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine.” Hort growls.

“But—“

Hort glares, _“Put it on before I do it myself.”_

Tedros seems overwhelmed at the turn of events before pulling his shirt over his head, exposing the clear, smooth tan of his chest and lean stomach. He wrings out the wet garment as best as he can and throws it over his shoulder. The tapered line of his waist twists as he pushes an arm through one of the sleeves of his own coat.

Hort unwillingly flushes at the sight but shakes it off with an annoyed sigh, _trust him to think his enemy is hot._

Tedros is shrugging on his own coat and then hesitantly pulls Hort’s jacket on top, with a last worried glance at the Never.

“Oh _please_ ,” Hort sneers, “Not everyone’s a weakling Ever.”

Tedros pulls the collar of Hort’s coat up, obscuring his mouth and nose and peering at Hort over the sharp edge of the black coat. Luminous blue eyes regard him in the dim light but it’s clear that he’s frowning from behind the thick black cloth. 

Hort dismisses Tedros’ expression with a snicker because he’s just noticed that his coat is way too big on the prince. 

Tedros’ hands are almost completely hidden in the length of the sleeves, fingertips barely peeking out the ends. The bottom of the coat that hits Hort a little below the waist is a good few inches down Tedros’ thighs, making Tedros look like an agitated penguin as the prince discovers why Hort’s mood has changed so quickly from bitter to gleeful. 

“I have more muscles,” Tedros mutters under his breath.

_Not for long._

Hort confines his mirth to himself, tucking his hand into the pocket of his pants that wasn’t wet. He decided that he was going to start working out and surpass Tedros in strength no matter what. It was going to happen. He feels giddy with the thoughts of _that_ future.

There’s a shuffle of boots as Tedros starts walking towards Good, arms wrapped around himself. The golden-haired prince looks over his shoulder and their eyes meet again. 

Hort offers him a two-fingered salute and bends into an over-exaggerated bow, pleased with the huff of annoyance Tedros makes, the prince turning back around and stomping towards Good with a new vigor.

Hort whistles to himself as he makes his way down the tunnel of trees to Evil castle, oddly satisfied with the events of the day so far.

He might even be able to snag a few minutes of break before classes begin again.

———

Tedros stomps into the Good common room, still preoccupied with thoughts of patronizing Nevers and his own stupid height when he realizes his mistake.

Silence greets him as he looks up to see that everybody’s staring at him in horror.

_Oh yeah._

_He was covered head to toe in mud. And wearing a Never’s coat._

“Dude.” Chaddick scoffs, looking him up and down in disbelief.

“Fuck off.”

“Oh boy, somebody’s got an attitude.” Chaddick quips.

Tedros ignores him in favor of making his way through the rest of the Evers, embarrassment burning a hole through his pride, practically fleeing into the hallway and in the direction of the showers.

Once he’s alone in the tiled bathroom, he throws off Hort’s jacket with a barely controlled scream.

So what if he was over-emotional. He deserved to freak out. Why had he even accepted the jacket? 

Yes, it was warm and smelled nice but—

 _Hold it._

Smelled nice? Where the hell had that thought come from?

He pauses and then warily approaches the coat like he would a wild animal. He picks it up and takes a sniff. 

_Smoke and…_

He buries his face in the fabric… _fresh pine._

Tedros is willing to bet he looks like a real idiot standing there, pressing his nose into somebody else’s clothes like some weirdo. That thought alone has him jerking the garment away from himself. 

He hangs up the coat this time, red in the face.

His shower is quick, not taking his time like he usually would. With only a few minutes to spare, he doesn’t want to be late to Good Deeds. 

Not particularly worried about Professor Dovey since he’s charmed his way out of trouble before, but definitely not wanting to come late and face the stares of his classmates.

He ponders to himself all the way to Dovey’s classroom, wondering how he could get the upper hand with Hort. Too many questions were left unanswered.

_Why did he care at all? What could Tedros do to embarrass Hort? Was that immature? Was revenge too Never? How could he find Hort’s weaknesses?_

His thoughts are racing a mile a minute as he steps into the classroom.

_Why did he care?_

Tedros finds his way to his seat more on instinct than anything else. He only realizes that his eyes haven’t left the top of his desk when there’s a light tap on his shoulder. 

Professor Dovey is holding out the assignment and Tedros quickly takes it, not meeting her eyes.

“Today we’re talking about selflessness.” Dovey announces, writing the word in cursive on the board, “The act of having more concern for the needs and wishes of others than your own.”

Beatrix immediately raises a well-manicured hand.

“Yes, Beatrix?”

“What kinds of actions are selfless, Professor?”

Professor Dovey smiles, “Good question Beatrix.”

“No it wasn’t.” Agatha mutters from next to him.

Dovey continues, “When you give to others without looking for personal gain.” She writes ‘personal gain’ on the board and draws a line through it, “For example, giving your coat to someone when they’re cold.”

Tedros stares hard at his teacher, now worried that she can read his mind, the example she gave suspiciously fitting.

He raises his hand. She nods at him and he speaks up right away, “But Professor, can’t there be malicious intent behind something like that?”

Dovey looks bewildered by his question.

Tedros barrels on, “I mean, what if they wanted to make you look stupid?”

Professor Dovey furrows her brow.

“Hypothetically, say a person tries to give another person his jacket, and then this other person says no and offers their jacket back to the first person instead.”

Now the whole class looks confused. Except Chaddick who is sniggering into his shoulder, turning his head in a poor attempt to hide his laughter.

Tedros huffs, “Nevermind.”

Dovey purses her lips and stays quiet for another moment before clapping her hands together in an attempt to bring the classes attention back to the front of the room. She launches into an explanation of the most famous instances of selflessness in past fairy tales and their implications for today’s stories. 

Tedros sinks down into his seat, completely done with everything already. He moans in distress, _and it wasn’t even three o’clock._

———

Hort goes to bed oddly pleased. Knowing that Tedros is going to have to give him his coat back in front of everyone else is like the cherry on an ice cream sundae. Not that he’s ever had one, but that’s how he imagines it must be.

The classes after lunch had been easy. History and Special Talents were no big deal. Thankfully they hadn’t had to show off their talents yet, only learning about the impressive ones of former students. 

Sophie had protested throughout the whole afternoon, still insisting she was a princess and that the School Master had put her in the wrong school. He’d peeked over at her notes when he’d thought he’d missed something and only found the delicate curl of Tedros’ name on her page, over and over again.

He’d curled his hands into fists under his desk, a combination of anger and jealousy thrumming under his skin.

All Tedros had was his looks. And maybe he was kind sometimes...and charming. 

But he’d gotten huffy and flustered after he’d accepted Hort’s jacket. Like it was embarrassing. 

He hadn’t given it to the prince with this particular result in mind but Tedros’ adverse reaction had given him too many ideas. 

He wasn’t a Never for no reason.

———

On the other side of Evil’s moat and Good’s lake Tedros lies in bed, staring at the ceiling and unable to fall asleep.

He needed more information. Once he knew enough about Hort, he would strike. 

He feels slightly guilty about the revenge fantasies running through his head but dismisses the feeling as unimportant.

Opportunities came more often than people thought and all Tedros had to do was wait for the right one.


	5. How Many Secrets Can You Keep?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tedros is conflicted.  
> Hester makes a request.  
> Hort is unsure.  
> Sophie is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Evers listen to pop and dance music at their parties and the Nevers listen to hip hop/rap and r&b at their parties, I don’t make the rules.
> 
> Never Party Playlist:
> 
> Undo - RL Grime  
> No Guidance - Moon OA  
> Blame - Bryson Tiller  
> Starboy - The Weeknd  
> Don’t - Bryson Tiller  
> Highest in the Room - Travis Scott  
> Calm Down - G-Eazy  
> Hawk Em - Pop Smoke  
> Talk - Salvatore Ganacci  
> Na Na - Trey Songz  
> 2 - H.E.R.  
> Heartless - The Weeknd  
> Cold Sweat - Tinashe

It seems like embarrassment is his default setting lately as Tedros thinks back on the positively _devious_ thoughts he’d had last night, contemplating all the ways he could get back at Hort. 

_The Good forgive._

After hitting himself in the face with a pillow back in his room a few times, Tedros does manage to more or less let go of his hostility and accept the situation as it is. 

So what if Hort had let Tedros borrow his coat? That was a nice thing to do, no feelings necessary there other than gratitude.

_No other feelings. Nope._

Tedros shakes his head at himself, golden fringe falling across his forehead. He leans back in his chair, blowing the hair out of his face and trying to focus on what Professor Sader is explaining at the front of the classroom.

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he twists around, coming face to face with Beatrix, her smile coy yet relaxed, “Teddy—“

He interrupts her, “Where’s Chaddick, he was sitting right—“ he stops and slowly raises his eyebrows, looking at Chaddick’s sheepish grin from behind Beatrix, the princess having apparently decided to plop herself down in the other boy’s lap so she could talk to Tedros. 

“Hey man, enjoying today’s lesson?” 

“Immensely.” Tedros deadpans.

Beatrix giggles, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m studying with Chaddick and Reena today,” her tone lowers and twists into something more sly and subtle, “Sorry for changing plans last minute baby, I can’t _always_ hang with you.”

Chaddick seems to be struck speechless but Tedros is only confused.

_This is probably another one of those complicated games that girls play in their heads, their plots too complicated for Tedros to understand._

“Alright, no problem,” Tedros nods, “Let me know the next time you’re available,” he adds for good measure, hoping that’s what he was supposed to say.

Beatrix seems pleased so Tedros must have done something right, “Of course,” she simpers, rising from Chaddick’s lap and sitting back down into her own seat a few rows back.

The rest of their classes pass quite monotonously, lunch approaching faster than Tedros would have liked. Eating was now irrevocably linked to the punishment of washing dishes, an activity he had to endure with _Hort._

———

The food (if you could call it that) they had been served today seems to be coming off the tin pails well enough as Hort hasn’t heard Tedros complain yet. He’s slightly miffed because the gruel was famous for sticking to every available surface and not budging even if you rained hellfire down on it. The prince’s eyes haven’t left the sponge in his hands or the sink and buckets next to him, solely focused on the task. 

Hort was almost bored. He scrubs at the plates, forks and knives on his side of the counter, the residue practically falling off with a touch. 

This is the easiest chore he’s had to do _ever._

He settles into thinking about Sophie. Beautiful, cunning, flirtatious Sophie. Not that she ever flirted with him, but watching was almost just as good as the real experience. 

How she managed to look gorgeous in their lumpy, shapeless uniforms would remain a mystery of the universe till someone discovered how miracles worked. 

After a few minutes he finally hears a short noise of frustration. He looks up to see Tedros scrubbing at a clump of gruel that has decided to stick to the side of a bucket like glue. The clump stubbornly remains even as the blond rubs at it harder and harder, muscles visibly straining under his shirt.

Tedros had given Hort his coat back earlier, looking oddly unbothered when he handed it over, lacking the sweet agitation Hort had been looking forward to. 

The blond had held onto the jacket for a moment longer than Hort thought he’d meant to, their hands almost touching along the seams, Tedros abruptly letting go after Hort’s inquiring stare.

Hort had subconsciously licked his lips at the flush on Tedros’ cheeks as the prince had stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Hort doesn’t know what possesses him to walk over to the opposite side of the sink, but he comes to a stop behind Tedros, looking over his shoulder at the offending bucket.

“Piss off.” Tedros growls, a growl that rises into a squeak when Hort cages him in against the counter, arms on either side of the prince’s body, chest against Tedros’ back.

Tedros might have been more muscular, but Hort was taller.

“I can help.” Hort counters.

“I can do it myself.” Tedros hisses, squirming around in an attempt to shake the Neverboy.

Hort stays put, for some reason _extremely_ comfortable with their positions.

Tedros is now whispering, like he’s afraid someone might overhear them, “I said, _piss off.”_

“Nah, you need help.”

Tedros stiffens in front of him like Hort just told his grandmother to jump off a cliff, apparently absurdly offended by Hort’s words, “I don’t.”

Hort leans in to whisper in Tedros’ ear, “You do.”

Goosebumps rise on the tan skin of Tedros’ neck and Hort has the sudden urge to _bite down._

That thought has him reeling backwards and away, suddenly breathless, “Um...you’re right, sorry about that,” he stutters out.

Hort kicks himself immediately afterwards. _Sorry? What kind of Never says “sorry”?_

Tedros blinks at him, clearly confused by the complete turnaround. Again there’s a pink flush high on his cheekbones and across his nose as he turns back around to the dishes, continuing with his task, shoulders now more tense than ever.

Hort stands there, still a little overwhelmed before trying to shake it off, running his hand through his hair. He heads back to his side and picks up a plate, pausing for a moment and then shaking his head once more, starting to scrub with new resolve.

The rest of the time passes silently, neither of them saying a thing.

Tedros seems to have figured out the stubborn clumps of gruel because he finishes at around the same time that Hort does. Which doesn’t really make sense until Hort remembers that he might have been slow in washing the Ever’s dishes because he kept glancing up every minute to stare at the prince. 

Said prince hadn’t even looked up from the soapy water and dirty pails, not even raising his head, stubbornly focused.

Hort hears Tedros sigh in relief when the final bucket sits gleaming on the outdoor counter, throwing his blue coat over his shoulder and the sponge back into its container. 

Hort is doing the same but he pauses when he sees Hester and Anadil stalk towards them like two wraiths, gliding over the grass in a scarily accurate imitation of grim reapers.

 _Why the hell would they want to talk to me?_ Hort worries, but the two witches completely blow past the Neverboy and come to a stop in front of the blond prince.

“Listen up, twink.” Hester growls.

Tedros balks at the nickname but before he can respond Hester continues, “You need to do something for me.”

Tedros lets out an incredulous laugh, “I _need_ to do something for _you?”_

As far as Hort knows, Tedros and Hester have never spoken before this.

“Yes,” Hester hisses, but more like a deadly viper than a cat, “You’re going to get the bottle of booze I know Professor Espada hides in his office and you’re going to bring it over to Evil tonight.”

Tedros stares at her and crosses his arms over his chest, “What makes you think I can do that?”

Hester scoffs, “Oh please, everybody knows you’re his favorite, devil knows why.”

“What’s the stuff for?”

Hort sees in Tedros’ eyes that the prince knows exactly what the liquor is for, but he waits for an answer anyway.

“None of your fucking business.”

That’s exactly the response Hort expected from Hester.

Tedros seems to think about this for a while, gaze flicking over to Hort for a second before landing back on Hester and then Anadil next to her, “Alright, why not.”

 _That_ Hort had not expected.

He scuffs his boots against the grass with every step back to Evil, now absolutely sure that he’s going to Hester and Anadil’s “party”. All he had to do was avoid smoking and drinking, and he’d be sober in a room full of slightly less inhibited Nevers and a possibly present Tedros.

He wasn’t _eager_ to see Tedros but he couldn’t say he was indifferent.

———

Hort isn’t sure of the protocol with the witches of Room 666 but just as he raises his knuckles to knock on their door, it opens to reveal a beaming Dot on the other side, “Hi Hort, come on in!” 

He ducks his head to step inside and is immediately hit in the face with a wall of thick smoke. Coughing and blinking hard he pushes his way through the couple of Nevers already floored and sits down on the bed opposite a window. The bunks have somehow been separated and pushed into a sort of semicircle around the room. Sophie is lounging on one of them, eating some sort of weird vegetable snack, examining her nails while periodically looking towards the closed window.

People come and go, some staying and others only there for a short while before heading off with a nervous shrug, poorly concealing how much Hester and Anadil intimidate them. Dot manages to put some of them at ease with her strangely bubbly personality.

The sky slowly darkens outside and the red tint of last remaining sunlight is bleeding away on the horizon, almost completely gone when a barrage of storm clouds seems to appear out of nowhere and a gentle patter on the window panes quickly rises into a thundering, uninterrupted sound as the light rain turns into a downpour. 

A little while later there’s a hard knock at the window and Hester stands up with a groan, “Finally! Thought he got scared.”

She snickers and unlatches the window. A rain-soaked figure jumps in and pulls back a hood, revealing damp golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. 

_Did he actually just climb up Evil castle in the pouring rain?_

Tedros pulls out two bottles from underneath his cloak and Hester snatches them without preamble, barely nodding once at the prince before plopping back down next to Anadil and uncorking one with a flourish. 

Hort is still shocked at the fact that Tedros is actually here when Dot chimes in, “How did you get these?” And after a beat, with more confusion, _“Why_ did you get them?”

Tedros grins and shrugs, “Why not?”

Sophie sashays up to him and puts a long-nailed hand on his arm, “You look absolutely drenched, darling. You must change out of those clothes before you catch a cold.”

Tedros shrugs again, but before setting off across the room in the direction of the bathroom, he carefully toes one boot off, then the other, then reaches down and in one fluid motion, peels the shirt off his body and over his head. As he does, Hort’s eyes travelled up the expanse of glistening, rain-slickened golden skin and taut muscle, his mouth suddenly going dry.

Sophie watches the prince too, emerald eyes glimmering with barely concealed hunger.

Hort quickly screws his eyes shut and tries distracting himself with thoughts of _Sophie;_ beautiful, dangerous _Sophie._ But as she stares at him from inside his mind, Tedros materializes underneath her and she’s not on her own but sitting on his lap, the two blonds, both with identical pantie-dropping smiles, staring at him from beneath his closed eyelids.

He decides that one drink couldn’t hurt, as long as it banishes the images of Sophie and Tedros from his mind.

———

Hort sniggers, “He definitely can’t handle it.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I ain’t a fucking lightweight.” Tedros shoots back.

“Oh yeah? _Prove it_ pretty boy,” Hort taunts, “I’m looking forward to seeing you on your hands and knees.”

The second-hand smoke must already be getting to Tedros because the prince just winks at Hort, unbuttoning a couple more inches of the black shirt he’s borrowing, the sides falling open to reveal even more of his chest and lean stomach.

“That came out wrong.”

Tedros smirks, “Sure it did.”

Hort’s goes a little wide-eyed at the response. Where the hell was the uptight prince from before?

Hort thinks it must be because Tedros _is_ a lightweight and he’s surely already tipsy.

The blond Ever is still here because Sophie had somehow manipulated him into staying and Hester was currently lining up shots for the crowd that’s left. The glasses teeter precariously on the charred remains of what Hort thinks used to be a nightstand.

He had loudly voiced his skepticism when Tedros stated that he could easily handle the amber liquid swirling around in one of the dark bottles. 

Tedros was now in the process of trying to prove Hort wrong. 

“Three shots minimum,” Hester sneers, “More if you aren’t a pussy.”

Tedros is downing the shots before Hort can blink, five loud hits on the table for each shot glass.

To Tedros’ credit, he doesn’t throw up or look sick after, only grimacing at the characteristic bitterness of the liquor.

———

At some point Dot had put on music, some sort of mellow beat with a deep bass. The few Nevers that weren’t already stoned out of their minds are swaying in the middle of the room, the low light from the torches on the wall creating a dark, magnetic atmosphere.

That’s the thought Hort has in his head as he watches Tedros and Sophie rock against each other under the lights, sensual and slow in their movements. Tedros’ hands on Sophie’s hips and Sophie’s arms around Tedros’ neck. 

They look like two angels fallen from grace, their blond hair glimmering red under the dim light.

In her heels Sophie is not much shorter than Tedros, the prince would only have to lean down a couple more inches to press their lips together. Their eyes are locked onto each other and Hort sees Sophie’s nails dig harder into the muscle of Tedros’ shoulders, her smile evil when Tedros hisses a breath in through his teeth. 

But he doesn’t seem to mind that much as he pulls her closer, head falling forward to rest on a delicate shoulder, slightly parted lips at her collarbone.

Staring at them Hort doesn’t know who he’s more jealous of. And that thought scares him.

Sophie’s back arches when Tedros slides his hands from her hips to her waist, tightening his grip slightly. Like a page torn out of a fashion shoot, they dance with an effortless grace, the tempo following them more than they follow it.

The music is still thrumming through the room, the beat in Hort’s ears matching the beat in his heart. 

Sophie turns around in Tedros’ arms, her back against the prince’s chest and arms reaching up with the pulse of the music, continuing to sway, head falling back onto Tedros’ shoulder.

Tedros keeps one hand on her hip and slides the other up to her ribs, matching her rhythm and movements with a skill Hort couldn’t replicate to save his life. The borrowed Never uniform looks horribly perfect on Tedros and Hort understands why the word “pretty” is used so often to describe him. Dazzling blue eyes seem to glitter even under the shadow of Tedros’ half-lowered lashes.

Sophie looks supernatural as she dances in her skin-tight black dress, glimmering blonde hair and legs for miles making it impossible for Hort to tear his eyes away.

Green eyes open so suddenly that Hort can’t look away in time, their eyes meeting across the room, time slowing when Sophie crooks a finger, beckoning him forward. Tedros must be feeling those shots because he doesn’t object when Hort shakily rises to his feet and makes his way over to the two blondes, like a man heading off to his execution. 

As soon as Hort is near enough Sophie turns to face Tedros again, one arm already around his neck when she reaches back and tugs Hort forward against her back. 

Hort gulps when his hands are guided to her waist.

He meets Tedros’ dark stare over Sophie’s shoulder and almost leaves right then and there, because if this is what Tedros looked with his inhibitions gone, Hort doesn’t think he’ll survive the night.

Moving under the flickering red flames and half-light, Sophie dancing in front of him, the only place to look is at the prince. Shadows play over Tedros’ cheekbones and lips, making his features look sharper, more dangerous, not like an Ever at all.

Sophie seems to have lost all semblance of finesse as she spins around, hand in Tedros’ shirt, pushing the prince backwards into Hort’s arms, Tedros now sandwiched between Sophie and Hort, body flush against the Neverboy’s front.

Tedros gasps but doesn’t try to escape, quick breaths coming from slightly parted lips as he keeps swaying with the slow beat pulsing through the room, neck arching as he slowly relaxes against Hort.

Hort loses all sense of time dancing with the two angel-like blonds. Angels that act an awful lot like well-disguised demons, ready to carry him to their own exclusive circle of hell. He meets Sophie’s emerald eyes, something unidentifiable burning in her gaze as she presses closer to Tedros, further reducing the distance between them. Tedros’ hands tighten on her waist.

By chance Hort catches the look of dissatisfaction growing on Hester’s face. The witch must not be getting all the information she wants. 

Hester stands up and taps on her glass with long, blood red fingernails, “Let’s play a game,” she proposes, looking around and daring anyone to oppose her.

No one says a word as Dot turns the music down and Hester sits back down next to Anadil, the albino’s arm slipping around her waist automatically.

Hester doesn’t seem to mind, almost leaning into it.

“Truth or dare,” she says, placing her glass down on the floor next to her.

Ravan groans, “Ugh, _that_ game.”

Hester looks ready to murder the dark-skinned Neverboy but Anadil’s hand on her forearm gets her to settle down.

Hester fixes threatening eyes on Tedros, the prince sitting between Hort and Sophie and looking far more relaxed than he had any right to be considering his position as an Ever surrounded by Nevers, “You’re going first,” she sneers.

Tedros smirks, his Ever charm obvious in his eyes, “Of course.”

 _It was definitely the drinks from before._

Hester bristles, but opens her mouth anyway, her desire to gain intel apparently stronger than her urge to seriously maim Tedros, “Truth or _dare?”_

The way she says dare is obviously confrontational and if Hort has learned anything from Tedros’ behaviour in the past week, it’s his inability to turn down a challenge.

“Dare.”

Hester smiles, something absurdly frightening in her expression. She glances around the room, presumably searching for inspiration. Her gaze lands on Hort and he’s never been more terrified in his life. 

After a moment her smile widens.

“I dare you,” she pauses, demon twitching on her neck, “to kiss _Hort,”_ she leans forward, hands on her knees, “for a full minute.”

Hort chokes on the air he’s trying to breathe in.

Tedros must really be hammered because he doesn’t even flinch, turning to Hort with fire in his blue eyes. 

He leans in without any hesitation, eyes falling closed as their lips finally touch. Hort inhales sharply through his nose. 

Tedros kisses like he fights. With skill and unwavering intensity, one hand on Hort’s leg and the other on his shoulder, fingers digging in, pulling him closer with every touch. 

Hort doesn’t know how he summons the madness (or bravery) but he’s suddenly pressing forward, running his fingers through silky blonde hair and tugging at it, making Tedros let out a barely audible whine against his mouth.

The sound has Hort gripping Tedros’ waist, maybe a little harder than he should. Or exactly the right amount because Tedros fists his hand into Hort’s shirt, tugging the Never even closer.

Tedros has already crawled halfway into Hort’s lap when they’re doused with a bucket of cold water. Hort wrenches himself back, spluttering through it. Tedros is gasping at the cold, mouth open in shock, lips still red and bruised.

The image has Hort biting the inside of his cheek. 

“The minute’s up,” Hester says, letting the bucket dangle loosely from her fingers.

Tedros clears his throat and leans back against the wall behind him, the picture of indifference. 

If it wasn’t for the flush creeping down his face and under his shirt.

Hester’s eyes glint as she observes Hort. He should feel uncomfortable under her calculating gaze but he can’t seem to pull himself from the memory of Tedros’ lips, hands clenched in the fabric of his pants. 

“Party’s over,” she says calmly, “Get out.”

The rest of the Nevers leave, more or less sluggishly depending on how much they indulged in Hester’s “offerings”.

Sophie offers to walk Tedros back but he shrugs her off, insisting he can make it on his own, insisting that he’s not drunk, _not even a little._ The prince is betrayed by his own feet when he trips over nothing, steadying himself on the wall with a laugh and following the others out.

Their eyes meet one more time as Tedros is rounding the doorway, sapphire blue eyes looking too big and too innocent after what he did to Hort. Then they’re gone and Hort lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He tries to regain some sense of clarity with a pinch to his arm, scuffing his shoes on the floor before walking out the door, leaving Sophie and the rest of the witches of room 666 without a backward glance, water dripping from his wet shirt.

———

Tedros falls into Honor Room 18 with a thud, window clattering shut behind him, cursing under his breath as he knocks over a stack of books.

The light from the other side of the room flickers on and Tedros’ guilty figure is bathed in light, frozen in the process of putting the books back.

Chaddick does not look impressed as he takes Tedros in, noting the tattered black shirt that he’s wearing, the Everboy uniform tucked under an arm, his damp hair and obvious inability to meet Chaddick’s eyes.

“What. The fuck.”


End file.
